Death Comes Ripping
by Punk Deviler
Summary: My first fic, an adventure story following Zabel and Le Malta during Darkstalkers 3. Possibly the only adventure fic not having to do with Talbain, Demitri, or Morrigan. Review plz.
1. Initium

All characters belong to Capcom. Anything else is probably public domain. I'M NOT GETTING SUED BY ANYONE PEOPLE.

Death Comes Ripping

Chapter One: Initium

A electric squeal echoed through across the plain. The player ,a shirtless figure, moved his fingers across the fretboard masterfully, combining blinding speed with relaxed methodicality. The song was of the violent sort, the player being of the violent sort and feeling that the song would put him in the mindset for what he had in mind. Power, in every sense of the word. In front him, a cycloptic beast beckoned, "Come Zabel, Ozom won't wait! Just a little more!"

Zabel discarded his guitar, grinning with all the smugness of a person seeing their plan go smoothly. _In just a hour, all of Makai and everything will be in my grip gya ha ha HA!_ he thought. "Excellent, my loyal sidekick!" He announced, Le Malta wearing his almost natural look of uncertainty and cautiousness.

Le Malta was doing his best in keeping his hopes of being through with this psycho and going on with his peaceful life up. Zabel would attack full force, but even if his power almost warranted being graded A, his master Ozom would put an end to his life with ease, rewarding his faithful servant for his duties quite handsomely. It was this thought that made him grin happily in unison with the homocidal demonzombieghoul.

A black abyss, cloud-like in form, swirling around the previous location of the castle Doma. A howl of dissapointment and fury ripping through the silence. Two figures, a raging beast and his frightened sidekick, alone in wasteland.

"Ok, ok, calm." Zabel said, lighting a cigarette to put himself at ease. "Any ideas, oh faithful droogie?", glancing at the clearly horrified Le Malta.

"No...no...it can't be..." Le Malta mumbled, a cold sweat emerging from his rubbery skin.

"Yeah, yeah, I know. I was really lookin' forward to tearing Ozom a new one too. The old fool prolly fled town, knowing yours truly was comin' for him!" Zabel said with a somewhat forced laugh, trying to cheer himself and his companion up. "But, hey, no matter, I'm the baddest of the bad now, so hail to the king!", posing, his guitar held up like a scepter.

Suddenly, a pulse of pure energy shot up Zabel's spine, his eyes giving a brief flash of sun-fire. A lecherous smile grew on his undead face, the embers of ambition rekindled in an instant. "Interesting! A new challenger more worthy of death than Ozom!" He exclaimed to noone in particular. "Change in plans, friend! As first order of the Zarock regime, I propose that I single handedly conquer this brave new dimension, off the ruler, and bask in all the glory that steps one and two entail! What say ye, my newly appointed advisor?"

"Guh...good?" Le Malta uttered timidly, still shaken by the absence of Ozom. Although frightened by this new dimension, he certainly did not want to arouse the wrath of the self-appointed king of the Makai. Certainly not after his tantrum of simple dismay.

"Excellent! Come on El Em, I'll kill anyone who gets in my way!" Zabel shouted, grabbing Le Malta under his arm and leaping into the gate of pitch black. Maniacal laughter was all that was left in the lonesome plain.

He looked around, unimpressed by the new landscape. It was hardly a change from the comfort of Hell as he knew it; a windy, barren, land with little vegetation. _This_ place, however, did have the quantness of destroyed ruins of old, as opposed to bustling cities of demons shouting and carrying about. Zabel cared little about what the history of

His eyes fixed on the large castle fixed on a plataeu, which he recognized immedietly as the Doma castle. "Ha! Maybe our old nemesis will make a reappearance in a suprise twist!" He cackled, Le Malta shuddering at the use of _our_. He ragained his composition, clinging to Zabel's back like a bizzare backpack. His eye peered over Zabel's left shoulder, his demon heart giving a brief pump of hope, although he suppressed this feeling not wanting to be set up for a big downer.

Zabel whistled various metal and punk songs all the long way to ginourmous castle, bats circling the top, creating an almost cartoonish sense of evil and terror. He was in his human form, mostly to save valuable energy andto show asense of nonchalant swagger, as he fantasized about his triumphant return to Makai, crowds of demons cheering and waving and crying praises; Le Malta being carried atop a velvet pillow held by fair maidens, himself on a glorious golden throne.Ozom was all but a distant memory now, a goal that gave way to grander dreams and bloodlust. Zabel sighed wistfully and started whistling "Horror Business" by the Misfits, a personal favorite.

- pnk dvlr


	2. Like Mitsurugi vs the Honky Tonk Man

_"Born in a pit of another hell _

_Of the worm _

_Not of man _

_Formless, faithless _

_And free _

_Intricate entity" _- Samhain

"The fighters are assembling my Q-Bee." The ominous figure said to the kneeling insect queen. He had a carefree smile, the sort of blissful smile a deity such as he was was wont to wear. He was, after all, the savior of the universe.

"Like rainbow sheep to the slaughter, no? Each one a different color of greed, selfishness, and loneliness. Even the ones who wear the monikers of good, do so with such interesting sins. Am I rambling? Sorry." He took a small sip from his wine glass, which swirled in his hands as calmly as it's holder.

Q-Bee was busy keeping a look of icy indifference on her face. Her race, although dwindling evermore, had found an ally in Jedah, who promised the brood a thousand feasts in exchange for their loyalty. The always opportunistic queen agreed. Her eyes, however, held a sort of hopelessness in them, as one would expect from a queen forced into the role as a mere second banana. She continually reminded herself of her reward after this mess was finished.

* * *

By the time Zabel had reached entrance of castle Doma, Le Malta had estimated it had taken them roughly fifteen minutes. Ungodly amounts of time were saved thanks to Le Malta's nifty ability to teleport across vast lands. Zabel's demonic heart pumped what could be said was pure adrenaline and power into his undead veins. His typically lecherous smile reached possessed heights as he gleefully walked into the foreboding castle.

* * *

"**GOD _DAMN_ IT**!" A gutteral shout tore through the uneasy silence. His fist exploded into a nearby pillar, small bits of rock bouncing off the frightened Le Malta's rubbery head. 

Much to his dismay, the arcane and powerful opponent he had conjectured and relished in destroying was naught. Greeting him were the either the confused or uneasy faces of the rest of the Darkstalkers. He felt like the victim of a stupendous prank, that in some room he was being mocked and giggled at by the aforementioned opponent. He was to say the least, quite displeased.

"Bollocks to this! I'm findin' the bastard in charge and doin' what I came to do, right and proper! You miserable little sods can all die for all I car-." He said turning his head towards the waiting Darkstalkers as he stomped angrily towards what appeared to be the door to the main chamber, and hopefully the wizard behind the curtain.

"-**Uh**!" He exasperated as his whole body experienced a shock of no small magnitude upon his touching of the door handle. Booby-trapped of course.

"What the-! You goddamn coward, I'll tear you to ribbons!" He shouted at the unknown force, and maybe a little at the door for good measure.

Morrigan Aensland, who had previously watched Zabel's tantrum with watchful amusement, quickly grew bored with the uproarious demon and decided to stop him.

"It's no use, it seems our host, Jedah, will only make his arrival when all of the Darkstalkers have appeared. The remaining Darkstalker is my 'sister' as it were, Lillith" she spoke with visible tints of annoyance.

"Jedah?" Zabel inquired, his wounds healing with remarkable speed. This was to be attributed to his half-demon side, something Zabel took great pride in. His rage subsided, although distracted would be the more appropriate word.

Morrigan sighed and prepared to retell the lore surrounding the youngest of the Makai lords. She spoke to him of rise, fall, and subsequent ressurection, followed by his awakening as the self-decribed savior of the demon world and the human world. His plan, she said, was to gather all the souls as one into a fetus of gargantuan size and dimension. To gain power for it, he would use the souls of Darkstalkers, and in order to get them he arranged a tournament, the losers of which would be fed to his fetus as nutrition. This greatly displeased our uproarious shark of Makai, a furious death rock concert burning inside him.

"What!...Nobody, but **nobody** tries to before he gets his hands on this piece of Austrailian meat! Grade bloody A, babe!" He yelled upwards at the ceiling, finger extended and pointed at the omnipotent Jedah. "Come out here and get one in yarbles, if you have any yarbles, you eunuch jelly thou!"

"**_If you are not so willing to relinquish your soul..._**" a deeply reverberated and gravelly voiced beckened, "**_then perhaps your blood would be a better sell?_**"

Zabel shot a dark look at the speaker, who was revealed as the accursed samurai Bishamon. This was actually a misnomer, as it was actually the hate armor Hannya, and the blood-drinking sword, Kien, along with a makeshift body made of lost souls. The true Bishamon had long been released from his captor's grip, although he now sought the evil things in order to seal their malice. Zabel snarled, his anger rising to a boil.

"**_Well, come on then. We musn't delay Death's caress, must we?_**" Bishamon sat up from his former sitting Indian position, his sword raised and his free hand giving the "Come over here" gesturing. Zabel had been challenged. Morrigan grinned her crafty grin. It was on.

"...Alright, fine you asshole, you **DIE!**" He shouted, and almost immedietly exploded into his zombie form. Not counting his clothes or bluish skin tone, the zombie form was almost completely unrecognizable from his normal human form. His new form gave his own salute to the opponent: an outraised middle finger.

"**_Showtime!_**"

* * *

Zabel almost instinctively jumped into the air, his right leg burning bright before releasing a sword-like appendage at the charging Bishamon. Bishamon was no fool, and was able to stop himself; Zabel's sword-leg landing just in front of Bishamon. When Zabel landed, he was met face-to-face with evil samurai. 

"**_So, Ozom's little doggie wishes to bite with his bark then, does he?_**" The Bushido demon taunted with a deep laugh. He swung his sword with such speed and skill that to most it was a brief flash of light, as some alien sort of blood spurted from Zabel's incision. His ability to feel physical pain was left behind after his rebirth, and this is perhaps the only truth in his zombie nature.

Bishamon's comments would have normally fueled the demonzombieghoul's fury, and inadvertently fueling his power. However, Zabel's face wore only his trademark lecherous grin. Inside his vicious album of bloodlust a plan was emerging. He took a step back, his right leg outstretched and his left bending into a sort of squat position.

"Don't worry overmuch, mate. Ya can't help losing to master of Makai, man!" He shouted, ending with his nigh-trademark howlings of laughter.

A spear jutted from his elbow as he smashed his fists together. The spear extended with suprising speed and fluidity, bolts of electricity dancing around it. Bishamon braced himself, preparing to either defend or perish.

"Aiiiiiieeeyiiiiii!"

* * *

"Ow...ow...don't put your bloody sharp-ass boots there!" grumbled our eternally cursed protagonist, trying in vain to keep as much face as possible given the circumstances. 

"Hehe, sorry!" Lillith said with a mix of embarassment and giggling joy over the faux pas.

Much to his dismay (Yet again), he had positioned himself right under the falling Lillith, who had happened to crash through the castle roofs and onto the self-confessed master of demons just as he was about pull off an almost guranteed victory. To add injury to insult, shehadplaced her quite pointy boots in just the right position to dig into Zabel's back.

"**_Ha! If I'd known a petty succubus girl could best you, then I wouldn't need to waste my little Kien on your pathetic zombie flesh." _**spoke the confidant and amused samurai. He resumed his former sitting position, and sheathed his sword, chuckling all the way.

A shadow soon blotted out a part of the sky in the distance...blazing ever so closer and closer. Simply with the high-pitched laughter that was announcing it's arrival, one could tell that the ever-so-lovely maniac named Jedah was coming to play.

Swooping over the two combatants, Jedah stopped on a dime, completely in mid-flight, just hovering there...his wings not even moving, just seeming to have his feet anchored to the very oxygen in the air, standing there and peering down at the two with his wide-open-and-tiny-pupiled eyes.

His right hand was stuck in his pocket casually, almost as if he did this every day. In his left hand was a small glass goblet, with a small bit of red, thick fluid inside. It didn't take a genius to figure out what it was. Jedah quickly rose the goblet up, nodding down at the two, then put it to his mouth, drinking all that was inside. Afterwards, he started to laugh, not even swallowing, the blood spurting out of his mouth in a sick fountain, falling down to the ground below and splattering onto the Lord of all Raptors, Bishamon, and Morrigan's forlorn sister. His left hand clenched suddenly, the glass shattering in his hand and stabbing outwards, impaling straight through his hand and sputtering more blood out. But Jedah continued to laugh, ignoring it all--truly a maniac.

"AAAAHAHAHAHAHA! GENTLEMEN, gentlemen, gentlemen...how fine it is to see you all again!" He finally managed to regain his composure at the last 'gentlemen', lifting up his glass-impaled hand to his face, clutching his cheek slightly, ignoring the stabs of more glass going straight through his flesh and muscles. "Now, I'm sure you're not all too happy to see me, so I'll just toss off a quick 'fuck you' and get right to the point, hmmm? The tourney is over...and only the winners remain. The losers, alas, poor souls...they were not fit to survive. So, their souls..." His eyes grew wide again, the pupils shrinking once more as a twisted grin ran across his bloody mug. "Their souls...eeehehehe...they will go inside THE BABY! The new messiah! The savior of ALL THE REALM! They were not fit to live, but why can't they serve us in their death! A saving slaughter, a messianic massacre, this is...PERFECTION! This world will be MINE!" He tore the hand away from his face, tearing off a bit of his cheek with it, leaning his head back in pure, insane, mentally-impaired laughter, his deranged shrieks of humor echoing around the castle.

After Zabel had finished wiping the blood off his face, he shouted towards to the Dark Messiah, "Oi, you think ya can just tell the emperor what to do, huh!"

Jedah's eyes turned to the loud demon, smiling. "Emperor, so you say? Tell me then, of what do you rule?"

Zabel smiled triumphantly, "Why, Hell of course!" He finished with a guffaw.

Jedah's face immedietly grew into a mix of shock, horror, and terror. The situation was graver than he had thought, if _this_, this, _thing_ could somehow be made ruler. No matter, once this was over all things would come to one, and the world would finally breathe a sigh of relief. Yes, no point in worrying over what will no longer be.

Jedah quickly regained his calm grin, saying "Well then your majesty! Surely a noble of your stature will have qualms about vanquishing those who are obviously no match for your royal grace and prestige!"

The room then filled with the snickers and chuckles of several of the Darkstalkers, all of them sensing Jedah's sarcasm. Zabel menanced at everyone in the room, grabbing Le Malta. He quickly shoved his fist down our poor protagonist's mouth, a chainsaw made from Lord (Or would it be Emperor now?) Raptor's very unholy bones shooting out from Le Malta's, ahem, let's say **very** vunerable end. Zabel raised Le Malta above his head, pulling his relucatant sidekick's left arm a good length, to further emphasize the chainsaw theme. This was simply the Le Malta Chainsaw, not to be confused with the Ultimate Undead move, which fully reliquished any power that he had yet to bring forth in exchange for the very little sanity and control he had.

"Come on, all of ya! I'll rip out your friggin' entrails, you bloody motherfu-" He shouted, menancing his weapon until he was cut off by a giggling Jedah.

"Please, please, Zabel." He regained his composure, his infuritaing smile still showing through. "'Twas only a foolish jest by a jestering fool, I assure you. Now, if you'd like to use your fury in a more productive manner, one that will yield unmatched glory and prizes, then please put away that silly contraption. I'm quite sure that your friend can't be enjoying it."

Zabel stopped the bone-saw's whirring, and then grabbed Le Malta, pulling him off quickly. Le Malta had an look of confusion and embarassment, although he did not say a word of protest or rebellion in fear of what the vicious ruler might do to him directly. Zabel calmed down, his face turned towards Jedah.

"Fine, go ahead, but I'm makin' _damn_ sure when I'm through with you it'll look like a slaughter house exploded!" He shouted towards the floating demi-god.

"Shaking, defienetly. Now that our emperor has had his rage calmed for this second, allow me to say...LET THE GAMES BEGIN!" He annouced, his right arm shooting towards the sky, some kind of maroon lightning shooting from his fingertips. At that instant, the ground beneath the Darkstalkers crumbled, causing them all to fall down into the subterranean hell that Jedah had devised for them from the start.

"Good luck to you all! I can't wait to mutilate the victor's body like so much screaming victims! Arrivederci!"

Zabel immedietly grabbed Le Malta, hoping to use him as either a crude parachute, or worst-case scenario; a last ditch cushion for the fall.

"Your death is gonna be awesoooooooooooooooooom-!" He shouted before entering the strange battlefield.

End Chapter 2

Comments? Constructive criticism? Hilariously inept flaming? Death threats? Bring it on!

(Although I won't hate you if you do, I would much prefer you e-mailing or IMing me with questions than doing it in the Review thingie. Thanx!)


	3. Giant Killer

Disclaimer: I do not own Darkstalkers. Um, that's all.

Zabel tapped his fingers on Le Malta's rubbery head in dissonance, much to our poor sidekick's chagrin. The two had landed quite easily for the most part, the majority of space being a large expansion of water, inciting Le Malta to puff up his size to that of a small raft. Back into the human form, no point in looking all ferocious and cool for your chainsaw. Bored bored bored bored bored goddammit he was bored. Le Malta stared at the increasingly angered Lord of Raptors uneasily. _Just stay still, he knows you're more valuable dead than alive but he's shown that logic isn't his best strength hasn't he?_ he thought, wondering with every breath if Zabel wouldn't just as soon kill him out of sheer boredom as he would, well, just about anyone really.

Just when Zabel was all good and ready to shout for Le Malta to take him back to Makai, seeing as how fruitless this endeavor was so far, a voice rang out that he recognized immediately, and he knew well enough that he would not leave unless it was gone.

"You down there, the blue guy with the white hair, up here!" it shouted. Zabel eyes turned upwards until he could see the nearby bridge, and the two girls on it. He had a big smile on now, his pupil-less eyes shining bright. Le Malta realized in horror what and who it was, but by then it too late.

"**_Hsien-Ko! 3"_** Zabel shouted in joy. "It's me, your love zombie! 'Course, now you can be calling me your love **emperor of the whole bloody afterlife**, if you want!" he finished with his typical guffaw, thumb pointed at himself in show of his undiluted awesomeness.

To the later sadness of Zabel, however, Hsien-Ko nor her sister Mei-Ling _could_ remember him. After Pyron's defeat, the two were reincarnated, and with only the dimmest awareness of who they were previously, their powers were reawakened with Jedah's universal message of unity. For now, Zabel was content to woo the heart of the Chinese ghost with his, well, smooth-as-he-can-be moves.

"Please, please stop. Listen, if we hurry now we can get back for you to have the traditional emperor crowning ceremony!" Le Malta said, not wanting to go through another experience involving Zabel's, ugh, _libido_. Even thinking about those two words together made his body/head ache.

On top of the bridge, the two sisters were confused, to say the least. Mei-Ling, the sister clad in yellow, looked at her sister with a troubled look. Obviously this _Dark_ _One_ knew her sister, and worse, seemed to have some sort of unholy attraction to her. Hsien-Ko was not sure how this evil thing knew her name, but was determined not to let that get in the way of her main goal: defeat these _Dark Ones_, and return home to her normal life. She shook her head, trying to remain focused.

"Listen, I don't know who you are, or who you think I am, but are you supposed to be the guy I'm supposed to fight?" She asked, wanting to get done with this fight as soon as possible.

This did little more than to aggravate Zabel's passionate monologues. "Aw, you don't remember me, your zombie love machine! We go back, back when I was just that dork Ozom's exceedingly handsome yet ruthless killing machine! You think you can forget chiseled abs and biceps like these!" he shouted, flexing his undead yet still quite lean muscles.

Hsien-Ko looked on with a mix of emotions including disgust, unsureness, and contempt. She scoffed. Luckily, before our Casanova-esqe hero could successfully work his mojo, a third character enters. He is large, also undead, and can be very mean under certain circumstances, this being a prime example.

He lunged at Hsien-Ko with his massive fist, although being the Darkhunter she was allowed her to gracefully dodge out of the way. She now knew her opponent was, and she was looking straight at him. She signaled to Mei-Ling, who started reciting the ancient prayers of her ancestors. The piece of paper that signified her sisterhood appeared in front of her, attached to her hat. She charged at her attacker, leaping up and giving a strong kick which was blocked by her opponent's huge arms. Finally utilizing her powers as a kuang-shi, she back-flipped over the beast, gaining additional height thanks to her claw-and-chain appendages. Once behind him, she was able to catch him off-guard and deliver a hard blow from her make-shift "arms". She lept into the air, her right claw now a swinging flail, and prepared to give the final attack. Suddenly, what appeared to be a hologram of a young girl appeared before the crouching behemoth, begging Hsien-Ko to stop. Hsien-Ko fell to the ground unsure as to how to handle the situation.

Likewise, our protagonist wasn't quite sure what to make of the situation. Basic instinct told him to go up there and give Victor a nice hello with the Le Malta Saw. Then again, things had gotten really weird since that young girl appeared. He scratched his head and decided to wait it out, pondering what he would do under different scenarios.

While our hero was thinking about how to react, our heroine listened intently about the tragic tale of one Victor von Gerdenheim, a golem who had lost his creator upon his birth, and now only had a faint relationship with his apparent sister, Emily. After laying Emily in her bed, he made his way into the Devil Dimension seeking a way to bring to life the only person he had left. He finished saying that all he wanted to do was live his life in peace with his sister away in the eastern European countryside. He clinched his fist, and said in a somber tone that if the only way to get this was through violence, so be it.

He got to his feet and charged at Hsien-Ko and slammed his two gi-nourmous fists into the ground, an electric quake surging towards her. The shock reached her first and she was rendered helpless against the following earth split. To finish his combination, he gave a destructive left hook which sent our heroine flailing like a rag-doll.

Zabel now knew what to do. He gritted his teeth and got pumped the hell up with a combination of spectator frustration and general contempt for anything not named Hsien-Ko. "Top of the bridge, **_NOW_**!" he yelled at his frightened assistant. Le Malta immidietly swallowed Lord Raptor, and the two disappeared in a flash.

* * *

Hsien-Ko held onto the side of the bridge for dear life by one claw. Victor lumbered to the side of the bridge and squatted down, arm and fist cocked back for one final blow. "Stay still, it will be quick." He said solemnly. He didn't enjoy doing it anymore then Hsien-Ko did, but showing pity now would cost too much for him to afford. He would have to act as emotionless as possible.

Hsien-Ko braced herself, eyes closed tightly as she readied herself to be vanquished. She didn't want it to end like this, gone in the first round and helpless like a small puppy to boot. She'd never have her old life back, not now anyways. She squenched her eyes shut and braced for the coming doom.

* * *

"You know how jealous I get when you're with other guys, babe." The voice spoke with a quiet, warm if raspy Austrailian voice. Hsien-Ko opened her eyes, half of her expecting what she thought it was, the other half thinking that half was insane.

Standing before her was that same weird guy with the blue skin and white hair, standing on top the unconscious golem with his arm outstretched for her to grab hold of. She remained speechless, wondering if this was another trap or if he was being actually sincere. She paused for a second, just looking at him, before grabbing ahold of his hand and being lifted up.

Zabel broke his cool and started celebrating his victory in both suaveness and over the suprisingly knock-outtable monster. He began stomping on his fallen opponent, a giant smile hung on his face as he thought about how cool he was just a few seconds ago. He stopped before snapping his left middle finger and thumb together and pointing his thumb at himself triumphantly. "Ha! The Makai Emperor laughs at such pitiful attempts to vanquish his loved ones!" he shouted, "'Cause I'm the Ayatollah of Rock 'n Rollah, the sexy bea-", just then, he was cut off by a rather monstrous tidal wave knocking him, Victor and Le Malta on the ground, temporarily dased and confused. Lucky for Le Malta and Victor, however, as both were already out and therefore didn't know what was going on. Hsien-Ko was fortunate enough to have reached to nearby pole to jump on top of, leaving her safely out of it's reach. From behind the three rose a curiously fish-like man who spoke with a curious mix of British and Spanish accents, "It seems you've gotten noticebly weaker since our last fight, you wicked monstrosity. No matter! Rise now, and accept your fate against...**_Rikuo, king of the sea and it's inhabitants!_**" and with that, he struck a bizzare yet strangely graceful pose.

Zabel lept to his feet at the word "weaker", although he heard little else save for the rather loud ending. His eyes burned with bad intentions, although Rikuo remained unfazed and still defiant towards Zabel's attempt at silent intimidation. Upon seeing his attack, though; Zabel relaxed a bit, even smirking at him.

"Jeez, I really got the lucky end of the stick, huh? You know what they call people like you in wrestling, mate? **_Jobbers_**. Jobbers, hah!" he said, letting loose a hearty guffaw, "You know what those are, friend? People who lose _continually_ on the basis of making people like _me_ look good. Alright, enough with the formalities, I'm good and well and ready for some slaughtering, let's **GO**!"

With that, Zabel tapped his boot the ground, a pillar of light shooting out and enveloping his now drastically changing figure. His skin stretched itself tightly over his muscles, growing outward as callouses began forming all over it. His stomach caved in, leaving only the extremely sharp and pointed tips of his yellow ribs; the mark of the devourer appeared on his chest. His hair spiked and grew upwards, his eyes turned pure black, save for two burning red pupils. His face underwent the greatest change, however. No longer the face showing his self-proclaimed mix of boyish good looks and rugged masculinity, it was now that of a lecherous skull; a grisly joke. Zabel's new form spasmed for a moment, getting used to new surge of power and energy.

* * *

Much to Zabel's suprise, Rikuo had grown suprisingly fast. Before Zabel could find his familiar rhythm, Rikuo had charged at him with no small ferocity. His face showed that of a man willing die for his mission, for the mission was all he had for his own at the moment.

"You think you can waver my emotion with your mockery, land walker! You think your talk will somehow impede my desire! What a fool will die with you!" He shouted as he performed a curious modification of a drop-kick. His body was near diagonal, a move that gleefully showed the type of person Rikuo was: uncannily graceful, and with a desire to succeed matched by few. All this was lost on our dear protagonist, as all he really cared about were the two feet that smashed against his face.

Zabel shook his head and prepared for a counter-attack. By then, however, Rikuo had already backed away a great distance, and was send a small stream of shin high water. Zabel felt somewhat relieved at this, as he assumed quite reasonably that that little of water could certainly do little damage. He then heard two words that changed all of that.

"**_WATER PRISON!_**"

Zabel braced himself, and sure enough a pillar of surging water rose up from beneath, making him immobile for the time being, and annoying him greatly. He hated being lagged on anything, especially in the heat of battle, and now he was forced into the infuriating tomb of goddamn _h2o_. He grimaced, then snarled "You goddamn**_ pansy_**!" which Rikuo did not seem to notice at all. If he did, then he masked it very well.

Rikuo's head changed instantly and quite noticebly, somehow longer and more reptile like. A long, pink tounge shot from his gaping maw, a Cyclopean worm serving under it's amphibian master. The tounge wrapped itself around the helpless Zabel, flinging him into the air and smashing him into the hard rock ground. More disoriented than actually hurt, Zabel thought about how lame he must look against the now actually _vicious _Rikuo. Somebody had lit some kind of fire under his ass, he theorized, and now Jedah's watching me be an example. It was a grim zinger, it was.

Rikuo's head was back to normal, although now his forearms had somehow changed themselves into that of huge crab claws. He charged towards Zabel and landed two good sized blows from each claw, the force of which easily knocked our greatly confused hero across the battlefield. Rikuo's face had not changed at all since the very start of battle: that knowing look of cold and bitterness that showed a lifetime of setbacks and bummers. The face that Zabel now desperatelly wanted to smash into a pulp.

"Am I of worth to you now, you pathetic wretch! Do I recieve your esteemed permission to rescue my own _son_ now, you beast! Let it be known that until my final breath is pulled from my lungs, _I will **not** stop trying._"

_ Fantastic_, Zabel thought with a great deal of sarcasm, _I'm getting beat by a goddamn dork of a hero case. Why couldn't I be fighting somebody who's at least **cool** when it comes to beat downs, like Batman or somebody?_

Hsien-Ko's thoughts were now heavily concerned with the battle. Not only for the fighter's sake, but for the sake of her very _beliefs_. The two fighting, and there reasons for fighting all contradicted any sense of there being only pure white or pure black. She watched intently as the two squared off, it now not being a battle of just competition but now one that had the weight of her values resting heavily on it's shoulders.

* * *

Rikuo had once again backed a good deal away from his opponent, although now he was prepared for a far more devastating attack then a mere holding spell. Zabel was actually quite curious as to what he had in store, and our previously unconscious Le Malta had awakened with a large headache and the question of why Rikuo had positioned himself as far away from Zabel as he did. He thoughts trailed: _Why didn't I tag along with Felicia when I had the chance, huh? Because I'm a _moron_ that's why! Felicia doesn't get into battles if she can help it, and she's a total hotty to boot! That's it, as soon as this stupid tourney thing is done I am so totally hooking up with her. IT WILL BE DONE._

The fruit of Rikuo's planning and training took shape in the forming of the rapidly receding water below them. This confused and intrigued both Zabel and Le Malta; a rare agreement of emotion and feeling between them. Just when all that remained was the loamy soil and sea weed, Le Malta had already realized what was happening, and he was totally helpless. He panicked.

"Comeoncomeon get _OUT_ of the way you moron! _OUT!_ Don't you see it, get _OUT_!" He shouted in rapid fire, his words falling as deaf ears as Zabel still hadn't figured out what Rikuo was doing. This both infuriated Le Malta and caused his Danger-Meter to go on full power.

"Now, prepare yourself for the pinacle of the deep, I give you, **_OCEAN RAGE!_**"

* * *

To describe Rikuo's wave is impossible in English or any other language. The first word that comes to mind is _HUGE_, but that does little to convey the enormity of it. It was far larger then anything Zabel could possibly relate it to, except for perhaps a skyscraper, although it was at very least five times the width. He was quite certainly caught off guard, although it would have made little difference if he wasn't. He much less than a second to react, and he did nothing in light of that.

The wave crashed with sheer force not yet known to the Human World, and very rarely happened in Makai and it was only thanks to the alien materials with which the bridge was built that it escaped unscathed. Thanks to Zabel's design, he only experienced one of the greatest mixes of disorientation and surprising clarity of the situation, resulting in what can only be described as a straight edge trip of utmost potency. Every bone in his body cracked and instantly reformed itself at least once, his body being flung around like a rag doll by an angry child. To make matters worse, Rikuo was now in his _element_, meaning that now he was fighting in a place that he didn't have to deal with akwardness of walking, or the melancholy of gravity.

Using her natural acrobatic skill complemented by her being a kuang-shi, Hsien-Ko had escaped relatively safely save for her clothes being soggy now. This was the least of her worries now as she began pondering more and more the people fighting. Even the biggest fool could see quite plainly that Zabel was evil, and going on personality and what they aspired for, one could easily draw the conclusion that both Victor and Rikuo were good. But going on actions, it seemed quite the polar opposite: one saving a life, while two were out to end one. It seemed that this tourney switched peoples personalities, although Hsien-Ko felt very much like herself; or at least as much as a person could given the circumstances.

Not too far away from, her sister; the yin to her yang as it were, watched uncomfortably as her sister looked on at the battle. She feared greatly for her sister, and hoped that they both would escape this horrid place and go back to living their normal, _good_ lives. Unlike her sister, however, she viewed all three of the fighters as being Dark Ones, plain and simple. There were no good intentions in any of them, in her view, and thusly deserved whatever fate they were handed.

Meanwhile, Rikuo was charging at Zabel again, only thanks to his natural adeptness in water, the intensity, speed, and force of the tackle was nearly twicefold. Suddenly, Zabel got what he was looking for: a 'Eureka!' moment. He smiled he lecherous smile that he does, and he got back up to his feet.

"You know what the cool thing is right now? That for all your kicks and waves and stuff, none of it matters any. Y'see, I got this one move that'll kill you, and there's nothing stopping me at all. KO, with one blow, ain't that something?" He said smugly. Go ahead, let him hear the last things he'll ever hear. "You wanna know why I'm lettin' you in on this, mate? It's 'cause when you die and Jedah takes your pathetic soul, I want you to remember _precisely_ who did you in and _how_ he did it. You wanna know what it's called, friend?"

Rikuo didn't know, and he didn't care, either. He charged at Zabel once more, only this time, Zabel was not suprised, nor was he disoriented. He had it planned, and Rikuo was unknowingly going along.

Just before he performed his move, Zabel said quite quickly, "It's neat, it's called-" he stopped and paused for a second. Rikuo was a mere foot away from delivering a brutal tackle that might have damn near ended the feud. Zabel smirked, then continued.

"**_DEATH VOLTAGE_**!"

* * *

The Death Voltage technique was one of Zabel's favorite moves to use. It was quite literally a Jack-of-all-Trades move that could be done near anywhere with lethal potency. The fact that they were both in the water only added to it's effect.

Zabel's body only immedietly transformed into a kind of deranged top; a Gothic rendition of a child's toy. His body spun rapidly, the spiked rim of which caught Rikuo and made a very nice and large gash on his chest. The worse was yet to come, however, as the coup de grace was a brief surge of electricity emenating from the very core of the emperor of Makai.

* * *

"Yeah!" Zabel shouted triumphantly as he lept from the water, much to the suprise of Hsien-Ko, who had seriously doubted Zabel's survival after Rikuo's catasclysmic 'Ocean Rage' attack. She was stunned, no doubt, even more so by Zabel's smug, downright cheery, demeanor.

Zabel looked back at the water, standing quite satisfied as he watched Rikuo limp and charred body float to the top of the river, then disapper inexplicably. He then began throwing fast jabs at the air, in some sort of shadow boxing routine, all the while reciting what was apparently a celebration of the life and times of Zabel Zarock.

"_I'm too fast, I strike too hard, and, dammit, I'm too pretty to be beat. Yeah!"_

He stopped with his impromptu celebration and turned to Hsien-Ko, who met him with a cross look of fret and shock. Zabel laughed at this, as if the very _thought_ of his defeat was the pure hysterics. "Oh come _on_, you weren't actually _worried_ about me, were ya babe? Hah! Don't worry, I'm going to be sticking around for a long, _long_ time. Yo Le Malta, wake up...Le Malta?" he said, giving the tranquilized Makai beast a good kick to wake him up. Le Malta woke up with a throbbing head ache, made worse by the foot of his supposed new 'master'.

"Oh, by the way, I think Sparky over there is getting his second wind and stuff. Might want to check on that." He said relaxed. Hsien-Ko looked at him perplexed, wondering who it was he was talking about.

"Hsien-Ko, look out!" cried Mei-Ling, spotting the mountain of a man rising, a mean look in his eyes. Hsien-Ko's head ripped back, and soon she cursed herself for not knowing about it sooner. Of course! Victor was still alive, as Zabel's suprise attack had only knocked him out, not done him in. She back-flipped quickly to get out of the way of his huge wrecking ball-like hand, and was able to land in a very hard, very _fast_ kick to his head. Victor didn't seem to notice, as he locked his two fists together, and slammed them just slow enough for Hsien-Ko to get out the way. They both knew that one blow would be all that was necessary for her to lose, and so Hsien-Ko was in the unfortunate position of being put on defense against who could possibly be the most physically powered individual in the world; demon nobles and Night Warriors be damned.

Zabel watched on with a spectator's interest: he had faith that Hsien-Ko could and would win, and he also had the knowledge that should things look down for her, one Death Voltage would be all that it would take to at the very least shift the momentum, if not stop the show. He lit up a cigarette and changed back to his human form, not really expecting any combat at the moment. There was also a distinct observational aspect to it; like a self-professed pro of the sport checking out the rookies to dissect their movements and tendencies for future reference. Le Malta stood (although I suppose the correct term would be laying down, as of the moment he retired himself to be little less than a purple half-sphere with a large central eye) by Zabel, watching alongside him but with more of a spectator's fancy.

Hsien-Ko turned her head to her sister, a cocky smile fixed on her face. Mei-Ling returned the smile with a nod. Zabel and Le Malta were curious as to what they were planning to do, although Le Malta had a general idea that it was obviously a signal for some attack. The two were joined in their eagerness to see what her next move be.

* * *

"Stop flying **_AROUND!_**" Victor bellowed, and with, his arm suddenly grew to cartoonishly large proportions, electricity dancing around it in much the same way it did with Zabel's attack. It was the equalizer, the thing to use when all you needed was to end the battle. Unstoppable force to very movable objects.

Hsien-Ko shouted angrily, "My name is Hsien-Ko...and I will not be denied!" and with that, the talisman hanging from her hat glowed intensely, as Mei-Ling's chantings grew louder. _This is going to pretty cool_, Zabel thought.

* * *

A near wave of very large, very beautifully designed swords erupted from the bridge, an awe-inspring look of grace and power captured in a move. Victor, because his arm had taken so much strength and energy to control, was forced to remain motionless with arm in a two-second window of sustained hook punching. If it were not for the electricty generated by the attack, it would look as if someone had taken a picture of Victor punching something.

The point of Victor's defeat looked much like that of a samurai movie: both had attacked at nearly the same time, with one fighter being slighty fast with her attack, thus the winner of the battle was obvious. A sword plunged through Victor's chest, pulling out just as fast. His face showed all the vunerability, unsureness, and depression of a young child forced into a situation he's unfamiliar with. He collapsed on the ground, struggling to get up. It was just then that Hsien-Ko realized what she had done: she had killed a generally good person.

* * *

"Em...ily" Victor said slowly after much struggling, his head hanged down low in shame. Hsien-Ko looked on, sadly. Zabel turned his back in disinterest, leaving the fighters to their own business. Le Malta and Mei-ling both looked on curiously.

"I have...failed you...this girl, she is stronger than me, and I am sorry for that...I am a weaker fighter then her, and now I have to go away, because I lost. Hopefully...one day we be together again, and we'll be happy..." he finished as he, like Rikuo, disappeared. Another flame, extinguished.

* * *

Just as soon as this happened, _he _appeared. Yes, it was the orchestrator of all these happenings, Jedah. He stood before them, floating in the sky. He grinned proudly and benevolently at the two victors, pleased with the results. Zabel turned to face the master of Majigen, scowling.

"Ah! My champions have emerged at last! Hsien-Ko and Mei-Ling, my twin sisters of hope and light!" Jedah shouted triumphantly, turning his eyes to Hsien-Ko, looking miserable. Jedah's gaze then turned to Zabel, who was trying his best to death stare the leader. "And of course, my little Giant Killer! You fell our physically strongest fighter _and_ the king of all the oceans with one blow each, did you not? How glad am I to be the one to congratulate you!" he finished with a hearty laugh. As Zabel thought about it, he noticed that he really liked the sound of that. Zabel Zarock: Giant Killer.

"I must say, though, that we still have one fight remaining in the opening battles, come, and join the other winners in viewing of this epic battle!" He said, and with that, the group of five vanished.

end of chapter 3

Check back in next time, sports fans, where we find out who's fighting and who wins!


	4. The imposter chapter 4!

Demitri stood over the crumpled mess that was his opponent with a sense of bemusement. Standing on a leveled pillar, he looked like a statue, right down to the pose. The bloody thing below him moved, but not to any alarming degree. Demitri, however, was rather disappointed in this, and his face reflected that now.

"Do you still struggle? It's lost some of it's initial charm, I have to say." he said.

The thing took no notice of this, and attempted to lift itself up, albeit hopelessly. It's muscles were pushed well past their limit, and it heaved and gasped for air. The amount of blood it had lost didn't help either. Still, it tried feverishly, with great motivation. It wanted very badly to just stand up, as if to do would practically gurantee victory.

The bloodied victim was named Talbain, a werewolf. The two had been chosen to fight each other, and so they had. It was the last battle to be fought in the tournament, the victors of the past matches looking onward at the two, watching, wondering as to who they might have to fight in the coming matches.

"Geez, this is pretty brutal, eh?" quipped King Zabel the Awesome. Le Malta clung to his back, and peered over his shoulder with his eye. He said nothing, preferring to just watch the events unfold. However, someone did hear Zabel, and they made sure to make their friendships known.

"Don't say that! Talbain's making a comeback, just you watch!" She yelled at him, smashing her pitiful fists against his shoulder. Zabel stuck his pinkie in his ear to avoid hearing her.

Zabel furrowed his brow as he went back to watching. He hated Demitri with a burning passion. Talbain was okay in that he never really messed with Zabel, but Demitri was another story. He hated everything about him: the arrogance, the fact that he had an entire of harem of girls, the way he always managed to one-up Zabel. _Hell, I'm the emperor, for Christ's sakes,_ He thought,_ what's he? Nothing. You know what? I hope he wins so I can beat the chumpstain._

Much to Demitri's chagrin, Talbain made it to his feet. He glared at the vampire king, and said nothing as he breathed heavily. His glare was matched by Demitri's, and it was a stand-off.

"I've seen your kind before. You like to think that you're _tortured_, that the world is so _cruel_ to you. It's pathetic. I will be the first to show you what your fantasy world truly is, so take note." Demitri announced.

Talbain stood unchanged by his words. It's odd how very little affects you when you're broken. Blood was literally sweating off Talbain's body as he began to speak.

"I know your kind as well. You act like you're better then everybody, and you bully anybody who doesn't agree with you. That makes me sick to my stomach, really it does. I know that as long as I try, you will never be able to beat me."

With that, Jon's body launched itself towards Demitri. A bright blue flame enveloped the werewolf's body as to give it the appearance of a fireball. The move was called the Beast Cannon, and with it Jon had defeated some of the best fighters around the world, even coming close to winning Demitri's dark tournament when they first met.

Demitri, however, was unimpressed by the move. As Jon closed in to hit him, Demitri sidestepped nonchalantly, and flung his cape up in a way almost like a matador does to a bull. He then quickly gave an uppercut at Talbain, made all the more powerful by a burst of dark energy that overtook Demitri's arm. His nails, which he grew out and filed to sharp points, cut into Talbain's skin and gave off more of the sweet nectar that Demitri craved.

Demitri was not done with his opponent quite yet, as he followed suddenly with a hook punch from the same hand. The power of such a punch flung the werewolf to the ground. Demitri stood again, triumphantly upon the pillar, smiling his satisfied smile.

"Do you see now, what true pain feels like? True pain is not losing yourself. It is not feeling abandoned. True pain is feeling the skin being peeled off you, as you have just felt. I'd suggest remembering that, in case you ever wish to complain about your miserable life." He said to Talbain. He lifted his hand, and noticed all the blood streaming down it. "A good start, but I can assure myself that there's more to be had."

Talbain was sprawled on the floor, back where we began. He wasn't thinking anything in particular, as exhaustion and blood loss had taken away in skill of strategy he had once possessed. All he wanted right now, was for the fight to end. He didn't care if he died now, just so long as he didn't have to worry, or feel, or think anymore. Then, a thought sprang in his mind. Suddenly, the wounds he had didn't seem that bad. They were still there, of course, but they were more like nuisances now.

He got to his feet, feeling alive, energy surging back into his body. He did not grin, but he didn't need to. Demitri knew how he felt, and this made his face go back to stoicism. He was ready for anything, but he knew from bitter experience that overconfidence costs fights, and that was certainly something he couldn't afford.

Jon positioned himself into a fighting stance, made somewhat awkward and ragged by his tiredness. He wanted to focus, but his muscles fought against it. Unfortunately, focus was the very thing required for what Talbain had in mind.

Meanwhile, Demitri was perched on top of the pillar, looking on with interest. His body was tensed up, as he was preparing for any assortment of attack. He eyes scanned all around Talbain, looking for the exact spot that Talbain would use to launch his comeback.

Talbain could feel the blood rush through his veins, his fighting spirit as they called it coming to him. His muscles finally gave up their own desires and let Talbain tense them. The desire for victory was at a fevered pitch inside him. There was no turning back for him.

Talbain roared, roared as loudly as he ever had before, and shot a spiral of four beams towards the waiting vampire king. The ends of the spiral were peculiar, as they bored resemblance to wild dogs, teeth gnashing, howling. A bright aura surrounded the werewolf as his energy flowed through his hands. This was known as the Dragon Cannon technique, seldom used because of the amount of energy required, but nigh indestructible should it hit. It was one of, if not the most powerful move in Talbain's arsenal.

Demitri braced himself, preparing to not to dodge, but to end the fight right there. He exploded from his perch and shot in such a way as to dive through directly the hole of the spiral blast, his body changing in odd ways, growing more bestial and fearsome. Wings were birthed his back, eyes glowed a fiery red. Naturally, he didn't dodge the attack completely, as the outer edges of his body felt the horrible burn of purest fire. In the blood lust of his transformation, however, this mattered little.

Talbain looked on in shock and horror, as he could see his opponent fly through his his final stand of an attack. He couldn't do anything, either, as the Dragon Cannon requires the user to remain as still as possible, so as to focus one's energy. He closed his eyes, and awaited his fate.

Demitri's right and primary hand plunged deep into Talbain's chest, his nails and new-found power aiding him in this task. Jon collapsed and flew to his back, the aura fading off him and floating off like fog. Demitri slowly pulled his hand out, tossing his head back as he reveled in the victory, and the blood, and the violence, and the degradation of his opponent. Talbain was limp, and the match was over.

The vampire lord stood up and changed into his usual human form, and after a few seconds of taking in the pleasure, and was silent as he was teleported back into the waiting room, his confident smile hung on his face.

Once all the winners of the previous were united in the waiting room, their host and death leader appeared before them, floating carefree amongst the winds over them.

"Ah! Such a climatic ending, and so fitting for our delicious orgy of sacrifice!" He announced cheerfully. His guests looked on, some with uneasiness, some merely listened with apathy. All took notice of what he said.

"I'm pleased to announce that our semifinals will be underway shortly, but first, perhaps you would like to see your death partners beforehand? Is it not so much to ask for your patience for a moment?" He asked, somewhat bemused.

"**GODS OF PAST FIGHTS, ROLL THE VIDEO!**" He voiced boomed deeply, unusual given that his regular voice was rather soft and mellow.

As soon as Jedah made the announcement, his very prescence was gone as all looked onward to the wall directly behind where Jedah had been. A kind of odd yellowgreen moss began to grow rapidly. As the moss spread out, a small, flat box began to expand from the center of the wall. It was an odd thing to watch, and the competitors certainly didn't know what to make of it. Then again, this was to be expected of Jedah, who was well known to have a taste for bizzare and complex theatrics.

When the box had finally grown large enough as to cover most of the wall, music began playing. The choice of music was strange; a weird kind of victorious 80s pop rock without vocals. Zabel looked on perplexed, wondeirng as to who he would face in the quarter-finals. He began going over the different possible outcomes, as well the strategies he would implement against them.

_Bulleta_..._No real threat, just gotta keep outta the way of her guns and stuff_.

_Lillith_..._waay too many young girls for my liking, but I ain't got no problem against Morrigan Jr._

_Bishamon..._

It went on like that for a while.

After the initial introductions had been made ("Welcome to the Quarter-Finals" it read with big white letters on a black background), an excited female voice exclaimed that they would announce the first match-up. Zabel snapped back to reality and focused on the screen. Although he had no physical heart to speak, as this useless device was taken away during his ressurrection, he could feel the energy flowing from his veins as he waited impatiently to see who'd be the first.

_"Our first fighter is...**ZABEL ZAROCK!"**_

What followed next was a video package hyping our illustrious champion. It showed clips from his previous fights, things like his signature spots, poses, along with this quote, which happened to start off the video:

"_For those of you who arn't familiar with me...allow me to introduce myself...I am _the_ most charismatic demon in the world, and if of you guys wanna rock with me, I'll be happy to show each and everyone of you why I'm the main-event. From. Hell!"_- His debut at Demitri's Tournament, Transylvania.

Zabel smirked as he watched his greatness and past victories; him posing on Victor's fallen body at the first Darkstalkers meeting; him illustrating the use of the Death Voltage on various people; multiple shots of him changing into his demonzombieghoul form. While all this was shown, Zabel could a type of music playing in the background; apparently his theme music. Zabel listened closely, as he had a fairly good knowledge of most types of metal, especially the type that was playing now; a kind of mix of speed and power. As he listened, he noticed that the lyrics seemed to be written with him in mind, and he concluded that the root of this song must have been Jedah himself.

So goes the song:

_You give him the best and he'll take them_

_Down to Hell!_

_Bloody king raised to kill them_

_Kill them all!_

_Took trust now and he trampled it_

_Now unbridled!_

_Now bow or face your fall_

_Give him your heart and he'll take it_

_Down to Hell!_

_Give him your soul and he'll break it_

_Breaking all!_

_Striving to be the one and only_

_Now new Devil!_

_The one who stands up pure_

_Legends all now fall_

_He stands atop the mountain_

_Uncontent_

_There still remain something_

_Calling him now_

_Took his sacrifice, and made it pay_

_Now immortal!_

_Power flowing through him_

_Gruesome one!_

_Emperor of the fallen_

_Bloody cross!_

_The giants will be slain_

_Legends all now fall_

_He stands atop the mountain_

_Uncontent_

_There still remains something_

_Calling him now_

Although the video had briefly put Zabel at peace, near it's end he could feel unrest grow in him. Although he was obviously confident in his abilities, he realized that PLANNING before fighting was actually more useful then just winging it. As the video faded to black, he clenched his fist as he awaited who his opponent would be. To her credit, the voice did not appear until after an excruciatingly long amount of time for our hero (about 30 seconds).

"_And his opponent..._**HSIEN-KO!**"

Even though a video package had begun playing in much the same style as Zabel's, it didn't matter. Zabel's eyes grew large and wide, or at least they would have had his pupils not been forfeited upon his resurrection. He backed away in shock, and fell to his knees. Le Malta looked on with a mix of embarassment and resentment.

"I...I...I will **not **fight my love! This ain't fair!...Agh!" He shouted.

Hsien-Ko herself stared in disbelief and mild annoyance. She certainly didn't mind my fighting this weird creature, but it amazed her how big of a whiner he could be in the face of bad luck.

Zabel got up off his knees and lit a cigarette, still mumbling how awful his luck was and how he didn't such harsh trials. Le Malta only sighed, thinking to himself about the same thing. As Hsien-Ko's music video rolled to it's conclusion, Zabel looked on with some interest as to what the next match would be.

"For our second match, please welcome...**Bulleta!"**

Le Malta's eye widened at the sight of the young girl, who promptly leapt to the air triumphantly.

"Tee-hee, I'll do my best to win! I promise!" she said.

Offensively sweet pop music began to play, complemented by quite possibly the most annoying female voice in existance. However, if one were to look at the screen playing clips of her, one could see the viciousness and contempt in her eyes. Shots of her blasting foes with rounds from her Uzi were shown, as well as other fire-arms.

To be sure, as soon as Bulleta's show ran to it's logical end, a low dirge began with a single low cello note.

_"On your knees, dog."_

_"And her opponent...**Demitri!**_"

As soon as the first shot of Demitri posing, blood dripping down his hand was shown, all eyes fell upon the vampire lord, who lowered his head and grinned. Zabel's expression changed from mild annoyance to flat our despise as looked towards Demitri.

"You're in luck Bulleta, as I shall make a proper woman out of you." He smiled.

Le Malta's eye watered up at the prospect of the two fighting. "Go on, my sweet! I will wait for you when you return victorious!" He shouted. Zabel looked at him with a mix of shock and disgust. "That...that's not cool, man.". Le Malta seemed as if he couldn't hear him, or if he did, he didn't care.

As the finalists for the other matches were decided, the video screen projected the brackets for the quarter-finals:

Zabel (d. Rikuo) vs. Hsien-Ko (d. Victor)-

Demitri (d. Talbain) vs. Bulleta (d. Sasquatch)-

Morrigan (d. Huitzil) vs. Bishamon (d. Felicia)-

Lillith (d. Anakaris) vs. Donovan (Bye)-

Zabel could feel his skin crawl, and felt like cold sweat was covering him. He hated that feeling.


	5. The true chapter 4!

Note: Ok, this is the improved version of the chapter as it was intended. I corrected a lot of stuff like grammar and spelling, and added the breaks that I think help it. Enjoy.

* * *

Demitri stood over the crumpled mess that was his opponent with a sense of bemusement. Standing on a leveled pillar, he looked like a statue, right down to the pose. The bloody thing below him moved, but not to any alarming degree. Demitri, however, was rather disappointed in this, and his face reflected that now. 

"Do you still struggle? It's lost some of it's initial charm, I have to say." he said.

The thing took no notice of this, and attempted to lift itself up, albeit hopelessly. It's muscles were pushed well past their limit, and it heaved and gasped for air. The amount of blood it had lost didn't help either. Still, it tried feverishly, with great motivation. It wanted very badly to just stand up, as if to do would practically gurantee victory.

The bloodied victim was named Talbain, a werewolf. The two had been chosen to fight each other, and so they had. It was the last battle to be fought in the tournament, the victors of the past matches looking onward at the two, watching, wondering as to who they might have to fight in the coming matches.

* * *

"Geez, this is pretty brutal, eh?" quipped King Zabel the Awesome. Le Malta clung to his back, and peered over his shoulder with his eye. He said nothing, preferring to just watch the events unfold. However, someone did hear Zabel, and they made sure to make their friendships known. 

"Don't say that! Talbain's making a comeback, just you watch!" She yelled at him, smashing her pitiful fists against his shoulder. Zabel stuck his pinkie in his ear to avoid hearing her.

Zabel furrowed his brow as he went back to watching. He hated Demitri with a burning passion. Talbain was okay in that he never really messed with Zabel, but Demitri was another story. He hated everything about him: the arrogance, the fact that he had an entire of harem of girls, the way he always managed to one-up Zabel. _Hell, I'm the emperor, for Christ's sakes,_ He thought,_ what's he? Nothing. You know what? I hope he wins so I can beat the chumpstain._

* * *

Much to Demitri's chagrin, Talbain made it to his feet. He glared at the vampire king, and said nothing as he breathed heavily. His glare was matched by Demitri's, and it was a stand-off. 

"I've seen your kind before. You like to think that you're _tortured_, that the world is so _cruel_ to you. It's pathetic. I will be the first to show you what your fantasy world truly is, so take note." Demitri announced.

Talbain stood unchanged by his words. It's odd how very little affects you when you're broken. Blood was literally sweating off Talbain's body as he began to speak.

"I know your kind as well. You act like you're better then everybody, and you bully anybody who doesn't agree with you. That makes me sick to my stomach, really it does. I know that as long as I try, you will never be able to beat me."

With that, Jon's body launched itself towards Demitri. A bright blue flame enveloped the werewolf's body as to give it the appearance of a fireball. The move was called the Beast Cannon, and with it Jon had defeated some of the best fighters around the world, even coming close to winning Demitri's dark tournament when they first met.

Demitri, however, was unimpressed by the move. As Jon closed in to hit him, Demitri sidestepped nonchalantly, and flung his cape up in a way almost like a matador does to a bull. He then quickly gave an uppercut at Talbain, made all the more powerful by a burst of dark energy that overtook Demitri's arm. His nails, which he grew out and filed to sharp points, cut into Talbain's skin and gave off more of the sweet nectar that Demitri craved.

Demitri was not done with his opponent quite yet, as he followed suddenly with a hook punch from the same hand. The power of such a punch flung the werewolf to the ground. Demitri stood again, triumphantly upon the pillar, smiling his satisfied smile.

"Do you see now, what true pain feels like? True pain is not losing yourself. It is not feeling abandoned. True pain is feeling the skin being peeled off you, as you have just felt. I'd suggest remembering that, in case you ever wish to complain about your miserable life." He said to Talbain. He lifted his hand, and noticed all the blood streaming down it. "A good start, but I can assure myself that there's more to be had."

Talbain was sprawled on the floor, back where we began. He wasn't thinking anything in particular, as exhaustion and blood loss had taken away in skill of strategy he had once possessed. All he wanted right now, was for the fight to end. He didn't care if he died now, just so long as he didn't have to worry, or feel, or think anymore. Then, a thought sprang in his mind. Suddenly, the wounds he had didn't seem that bad. They were still there, of course, but they were more like nuisances now.

He got to his feet, feeling alive, energy surging back into his body. He did not grin, but he didn't need to. Demitri knew how he felt, and this made his face go back to stoicism. He was ready for anything, but he knew from bitter experience that overconfidence costs fights, and that was certainly something he couldn't afford.

Jon positioned himself into a fighting stance, made somewhat awkward and ragged by his tiredness. He wanted to focus, but his muscles fought against it. Unfortunately, focus was the very thing required for what Talbain had in mind.

Meanwhile, Demitri was perched on top of the pillar, looking on with interest. His body was tensed up, as he was preparing for any assortment of attack. He eyes scanned all around Talbain, looking for the exact spot that Talbain would use to launch his comeback.

* * *

Talbain could feel the blood rush through his veins, his fighting spirit as they called it coming to him. His muscles finally gave up their own desires and let Talbain tense them. The desire for victory was at a fevered pitch inside him. There was no turning back for him.

* * *

Talbain roared, roared as loudly as he ever had before, and shot a spiral of four beams towards the waiting vampire king. The ends of the spiral were peculiar, as they bored resemblance to wild dogs, teeth gnashing, howling. A bright aura surrounded the werewolf as his energy flowed through his hands. This was known as the Dragon Cannon technique, seldom used because of the amount of energy required, but nigh indestructible should it hit. It was one of, if not the most powerful move in Talbain's arsenal. 

Demitri braced himself, preparing to not to dodge, but to end the fight right there. He exploded from his perch and shot in such a way as to dive through directly the hole of the spiral blast, his body changing in odd ways, growing more bestial and fearsome. Wings were birthed his back, eyes glowed a fiery red. Naturally, he didn't dodge the attack completely, as the outer edges of his body felt the horrible burn of purest fire. In the blood lust of his transformation, however, this mattered little.

Talbain looked on in shock and horror, as he could see his opponent fly through his his final stand of an attack. He couldn't do anything, either, as the Dragon Cannon requires the user to remain as still as possible, so as to focus one's energy. He closed his eyes, and awaited his fate.

Demitri's right and primary hand plunged deep into Talbain's chest, his nails and new-found power aiding him in this task. Jon collapsed and flew to his back, the aura fading off him and floating off like fog. Demitri slowly pulled his hand out, tossing his head back as he reveled in the victory, and the blood, and the violence, and the degradation of his opponent. Talbain was limp, and the match was over.

The vampire lord stood up and changed into his usual human form, and after a few seconds of taking in the pleasure, and was silent as he was teleported back into the waiting room, his confident smile hung on his face.

Once all the winners of the previous were united in the waiting room, their host and death leader appeared before them, floating carefree amongst the winds over them.

"Ah! Such a climatic ending, and so fitting for our delicious orgy of sacrifice!" He announced cheerfully. His guests looked on, some with uneasiness, some merely listened with apathy. All took notice of what he said.

"I'm pleased to announce that our semifinals will be underway shortly, but first, perhaps you would like to see your death partners beforehand? Is it not so much to ask for your patience for a moment?" He asked, somewhat bemused.

"**GODS OF PAST FIGHTS, ROLL THE VIDEO!**" He voiced boomed deeply, unusual given that his regular voice was rather soft and mellow.

As soon as Jedah made the announcement, his very prescence was gone as all looked onward to the wall directly behind where Jedah had been. A kind of odd yellowgreen moss began to grow rapidly. As the moss spread out, a small, flat box began to expand from the center of the wall. It was an odd thing to watch, and the competitors certainly didn't know what to make of it. Then again, this was to be expected of Jedah, who was well known to have a taste for bizzare and complex theatrics.

When the box had finally grown large enough as to cover most of the wall, music began playing. The choice of music was strange; a weird kind of victorious 80s pop rock without vocals. Zabel looked on perplexed, wondeirng as to who he would face in the quarter-finals. He began going over the different possible outcomes, as well the strategies he would implement against them.

_Bulleta_..._No real threat, just gotta keep outta the way of her guns and stuff_.

_Lillith_..._waay too many young girls for my liking, but I ain't got no problem against Morrigan Jr._

_Bishamon..._

It went on like that for a while.

After the initial introductions had been made ("Welcome to the Quarter-Finals" it read with big white letters on a black background), an excited female voice exclaimed that they would announce the first match-up. Zabel snapped back to reality and focused on the screen. Although he had no physical heart to speak, as this useless device was taken away during his ressurrection, he could feel the energy flowing from his veins as he waited impatiently to see who'd be the first.

_"Our first fighter is...**ZABEL ZAROCK!"**_

What followed next was a video package hyping our illustrious champion. It showed clips from his previous fights, things like his signature spots, poses, along with this quote, which happened to start off the video:

"_For those of you who arn't familiar with me...allow me to introduce myself...I am _the_ most charismatic demon in the world, and if anyof you guys wanna rock with me, I'll be happy to show each and everyone of you why I'm the main-event. From. Hell!"_- His debut at Demitri's Tournament, Transylvania.

Zabel smirked as he watched his greatness and past victories: him posing on Victor's fallen body at the first Darkstalkers meeting; him illustrating the use of the Death Voltage on various people; multiple shots of him changing into his demonzombieghoul form. While all this was shown, Zabel could a type of music playing in the background; apparently his theme music. Zabel listened closely, as he had a fairly good knowledge of most types of metal, especially the type that was playing now; a kind of mix of speed and power. As he listened, he noticed that the lyrics seemed to be written with him in mind, and he concluded that the root of this song must have been Jedah himself.

So goes the song:

_You give him the best and he'll take them_

_Down to Hell!_

_Bloody king raised to kill them_

_Kill them all!_

_Took trust now and he trampled it_

_Now unbridled!_

_Now bow or face your fall_

_Give him your heart and he'll take it_

_Down to Hell!_

_Give him your soul and he'll break it_

_Breaking all!_

_Striving to be the one and only_

_Now new Devil!_

_The one who stands up pure_

_Legends all now fall_

_He stands atop the mountain_

_Uncontent_

_There still remains something_

_Calling him now_

_Took his sacrifice, and made it pay_

_Now immortal!_

_Power flowing through him_

_Gruesome one!_

_Emperor of the fallen_

_Bloody cross!_

_The giants will be slain_

_Legends all now fall_

_He stands atop the mountain_

_Uncontent_

_There still remains something_

_Calling him now_

Although the video had briefly put Zabel at peace, near it's end he could feel unrest grow in him. Although he was obviously confident in his abilities, he realized that PLANNING before fighting was actually more useful then just winging it. As the video faded to black, he clenched his fist as he awaited who his opponent would be. To her credit, the voice did not appear until after an excruciatingly long amount of time for our hero (about 30 seconds).

"_And his opponent..._**HSIEN-KO!**"

* * *

Even though a video package had begun playing in much the same style as Zabel's, it didn't matter. Zabel's eyes grew large and wide, or at least they would have had his pupils not been forfeited upon his resurrection. He backed away in shock, and fell to his knees. Le Malta looked on with a mix of embarassment and resentment. 

"I...I...I will **not **fight my love! This ain't fair!...Agh!" He shouted.

Hsien-Ko herself stared in disbelief and mild annoyance. She certainly didn't mind my fighting this weird creature, but it amazed her how big of a whiner he could be in the face of bad luck.

Zabel got up off his knees and lit a cigarette, still mumbling how awful his luck was and how he didn't deservesuch harsh trials. Le Malta only sighed, thinking to himself about the same thing. As Hsien-Ko's music video rolled to it's conclusion, Zabel looked on with some interest as to what the next match would be.

"For our second match, please welcome...**Bulleta!"**

Le Malta's eye widened at the sight of the young girl, who promptly leapt to the air triumphantly.

"Tee-hee, I'll do my best to win! I promise!" she said.

Offensively sweet pop music began to play, complemented by quite possibly the most annoying female voice in existance. However, if one were to look at the screen playing clips of her, one could see the viciousness and contempt in her eyes. Shots of her blasting foes with rounds from her Uzi were shown, as well as other fire-arms.

To be sure, as soon as Bulleta's show ran to it's logical end, a low dirge began with a single low cello note.

_"On your knees, dog."_

_"And her opponent...**Demitri!**_"

As soon as the first shot of Demitri posing, blood dripping down his hand was shown, all eyes fell upon the vampire lord, who lowered his head and grinned. Zabel's expression changed from mild annoyance to flat our despise as looked towards Demitri.

"You're in luck Bulleta, as I shall make a proper woman out of you." He smiled.

Le Malta's eye watered up at the prospect of the two fighting. "Go on, my sweet! I will wait for you when you return victorious!" He shouted. Zabel looked at him with a mix of shock and disgust. "That...that's not cool, man.". Le Malta seemed as if he couldn't hear him, or if he did, he didn't care.

As the finalists for the other matches were decided, the video screen projected the brackets for the quarter-finals:

Zabel (d. Rikuo) vs. Hsien-Ko (d. Victor)-

Demitri (d. Talbain) vs. Bulleta (d. Sasquatch)-

Morrigan (d. Huitzil) vs. Bishamon (d. Felicia)-

Lillith (d. Anakaris) vs. Donovan (Bye)-

Zabel could feel his skin crawl, and felt like cold sweat was covering him. He hated that feeling.

END

* * *

To be honest, I wanted to put a lot more content in this chapter, but since I'd like to finish this story sometime this year, I'm trying to get the chapters out as fast as possible. Thanks for putting up with me.


End file.
